Wishful Thinking
by A Silence in Winter
Summary: Namine's imagination has a tendency to get out of hand and take her places she shouldn't go. Like the sky.


**Wishful Thinking**

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It was no secret that Naminé had a penchant for art. Almost her every waking moment was dedicated to the task. At times, it was quite meticulous. Lines had to straight and the contours accurate. Colors could only contrast if they did so in a gentle or striking way. She worked hard, it was true, but the fruit of her laborss was well worth it. She knew it was appreciated, even if silent admiration was the only recognition she ever got.

Naminé worked very hard to perfect her skills. There was a purpose behind every picture. Each one was imprinted with an invisible passage that had meaning to, she thought, only two people, maybe three. It was easy to crack a smile to her latest work, but what might seem a simple drawing of a brunet and his friends really had a deep and perhaps dark meaning. They just didn't understand what it was.

It could be said that Naminé worked every day on her pictures. But that _deep_ meaning in her art was perhaps the fuel behind the fire. If it was her choice, Naminé would fill her canvas with lovely images of places that existed only in her mind's eye. She would litter the paper with trinket thoughts of rainbow field, gypsy-chrome butterflies, ripe peaches, and oak trees that reached for marshmallow clouds. These things existed in the back of her mind only because she was implored to illustrate something quite different.

This lonely child was trapped in her talents in a palace that existed only in an echo. Dear Naminé was on the periphery of interest for Organization XIII. Her certain talents were deemed useful. Therefore, she was bequeathed with a responsibility. One that was enforced by a number of the thirteen; a thirteen to which she was excluded.

They needn't tell her she was their property. The truth was plain enough.

Her superiors were many in number. Several could be assessed by frequency. Larxene and Axel were two, and Marluxia was the third.

The most powerful of these is Marluxia; the Lord of Castle Oblivion. He is fairly distant to Naminé. Marluxia prefers to see that his underlings keep the girl in line. When he does appear out of shadows, Naminé knows it is impossible to predict if he will treat her with soft affections or use her as a medium for his temper. He never inspires her.

Another member, ignoring the mess of drawings and utensils scattered about her lonely chair in the vacant room, Larxene will gladly be the cat to a little mouse. She will tease the young witch with notions of freedom. It would not be far from the truth to say the distant dreams Naminé possessed came predominantly from Larxene. The other Nobody often brought whimsical figments of so-called memories.

She speaks of warm sand at the beach, the first snow of December, and doves in flight. Larxene says that beyond these cold prison walls are lovely lands of blue ocean, nights with the moon and stars, and places where the air is so thin you can fly. These fractal pieces of life are forbidden to Naminé, and perhaps it was why Larxene feels the need to tell her. Perhaps the other Nobody takes some pleasure in watching the worn smile on Namine's face fade to a dismal and insipid line.

This may be why Naminé sometimes prefers Axel. But only sometimes.

On the contrary to Larxene, Axel does not have much to say. He only encourages her to keep drawing in the hopes that _she_ might be rescued. And somewhere inside she wonders if he cares, or if he is just out for his own ends. She thinks of herself to him as only one more person to destroy in his conquest. Larxene, at least, was not so transparent. Axel thinks he is so sly. Larxene never even bothers to hide her malevolent intent.

But she takes their concerns—however spurious—with a grain of salt. Like the birds Larxene speaks of, Naminé knows that she can float if she can find her escape. Someday, her cage will open, and she will be ready to use her wings.

Not yet. Still she must answer to these mocking authorities. On her knees she must present herself as a piece of her soulless entity wears away. The personality she sketched in fashion of her art is learning, and there is no way the Organization can curb it. This is where she draws her mundane powers from; that little-big imagination of hers.

So she likes to imagine, as she submits, that she can soar to heights beyond her enemies. She wants to grow wings and take flight to leave behind only her pain and a dusting of feathers.

That day is very far. These wings of hers are only wishful thinking. Naminé can never truly become something as pure as a bird when she is so tainted. She can only hope that one day those devils in black cloaks will relinquish their hold on her. Until that day, she must be satisfied with mere sketches of doves in the sky of enchanted blue that she may never see.

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**Disclaimer:** Kingdom Hearts and its characters belong to Square Enix and Disney. I own nothing.


End file.
